Imperfect Sword

by Jack Campbell

  “What route are we taking back to the headquarters complex? Display it for me.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  A map appeared in the air before Rogero, showing a three-dimensional image of this part of the city, the limo they were riding in clearly indicated, a path snaking from it toward the ground forces headquarters.

  The city had been designed so that the roads leading toward the ground forces headquarters, like those leading to other important locations such as the former snake headquarters and President Iceni’s offices, funneled down into a few wide boulevards that could be easily secured with security checkpoints. That made a great deal of sense if you were already inside the complex and worried about what might be coming your way, but if you were outside the complex and wanting to get in, it meant there were only a few paths you could take for the last stages of the trip. Even though VIP caravans routinely varied their routes to avoid providing predictable targets, there wasn’t much variation possible as the available roads necked down before reaching the complex.

  Rogero looked at the map and realized what he was really unhappy about. If someone dangerous enough to warrant limo-procession-level security was out to get him, that someone would be dangerous enough to figure out how to get him despite the protection afforded by the limo. “Driver, alter our path. I want to turn right up ahead, proceed for half a kilometer, then follow the route I will show you. Tell the escort vehicles.”

  “Sir, that will take us around the complex instead of toward it. President Iceni ordered that you be taken back to your headquarters. I am not authorized—”

  “I am giving you an order! Comply!”

  Syndicate training insisted on obedience, backing up that insistence with vicious penalties for failure, but Rogero, like all Syndicate executives and CEOs, had long ago learned the problems that created when contradictory commands existed. Untrained at resolving issues for themselves, inexperienced with making their own decisions, and above all afraid to comply with the wrong order, workers often simply locked up like a machine told to both open and close a door at the same time.

  The resulting delays could be fatal.

  “Comply!” Rogero yelled again, as the limo went past the turn he had indicated and into the multipronged intersection leading into the nearest one of the main approaches to the ground forces headquarters complex.

  The driver finally acted, jerking the limo to a halt in a vain attempt to back toward the missed turn. The security limo behind braked frantically, slewing to one side and narrowly missing the limo carrying Rogero, while the lead limo went onward several more meters before realizing that anything was happening.

  Rogero, cursing the confusion, reached for the door release.

  His hand had not touched it when the lead limo slid onward another meter as it began braking, and tripped a hidden sensor in the roadway. Massive shaped-charge explosions erupted from the roadway beneath and from locations on the façades of the buildings on either side.

  —

  IT had taken far too long to get to this point. First, Morgan had been forced to infiltrate the outer areas of the snake alternate command center, following a route she had previously used, until she could activate the necessary loops on the taps in certain control circuits heading out from the command center. Having neutralized the snakes’ ability to set off their buried nukes, Morgan had then worked her way out past snake security, through more security checkpoints and columns of enemy vehicles, to where she could waylay a laggard soldier and use his gear to tap into the enemy tactical display.

  Colonel Roh Morgan could finally see what was happening.

  General Drakon was trapped, an entire Syndicate division of ground troops consolidating to form a solid ring around his perimeter, the enemy brigade occupying the base dug in and well supplied, lots of newly arrived artillery being moved into position to turn the unfortified buildings holding Drakon’s troops into masses of rubble before the enemy ground forces launched an all-out attack.

  She had failed him. There was no way to stop this, no way for her, alone, to do enough damage in a short enough time to an entire division of enemy troops and all of their supporting weapons to make any difference in the outcome. Even if her arm hadn’t been injured and she had been at full physical capability, it simply wasn’t possible. The snake nukes had been neutralized, but that didn’t matter. The enemy didn’t need the nukes.

  Morgan fought off tears, shaking her head with growing rage. No. No. Even if he dies here, even if I die here, our daughter will live. Our daughter will avenge us.

  But all vengeance will not wait for her.

  One more snake has to die this day, the snake who set this up, the snake who tricked me, and who is not going to live to enjoy his victory. Don’t worry, General. I failed you in everything else here, but I won’t fail in this. I’m going to make sure that snake dies.

  She took the dead enemy soldier’s sidearm and eased onto the nearest street, heading back toward the snake alternate command center.

  —

  THE echoes from the explosions near Midway’s ground forces headquarters were still resounding through the city when crowds of agitated citizens began pouring into the streets, blocking traffic and filling every public square.

  Iceni looked from one virtual window before her desk to the next, at dozens of tiled scenes of embryonic mobs. Part of her had to admire whoever had set this up, priming the citizens with anxiety and fears that would burst into hazardous motion when a fuse like the explosions went off.

  Only part of her, because the other parts of her were busy.

  “Find out what Colonel Rogero’s status is!” she demanded of the senior police officer at the scene of the explosion. “I want to know the instant you find out, and I want you to find out immediately!”

  Another virtual window was displaying messages flooding through social media, news, and other citizen communication feeds.

  General Drakon has been killed by Iceni.

  President Iceni seriously injured in assassination attempt by Drakon.

  Ground forces soldiers forced to take new oath of loyalty to the Syndicate.

  Iceni has invited Syndicate to return to Midway to restore order.

  Drakon has smuggled large numbers of snakes into star system and given them back control of their headquarters.

  Open fighting in city as forces of Iceni and Drakon battle for control.

  Iceni declares herself sole CEO at Midway.

  Drakon has drawn up plans for mass arrests.

  Iceni to reopen labor camps.

  All elections canceled, all elected officials ordered arrested.

  Mobile forces ordered to bombard planet.

  Mobile forces mutiny.

  Ground forces mutiny.

  Iceni sells out Midway to the Alliance.

  Drakon a traitor, deliberately lost battles to Alliance, say ground forces.

  Midway to be surrendered to enigmas.

  Enigma attack imminent, most defenders away by order of Iceni.

  Enigma attack imminent, most defenders away by order of Drakon.

  She slammed a comm control hard enough to wonder if it was possible to physically damage a virtual control. “Why aren’t these messages being stopped? Why are they getting sent all around the planet?”

  A senior aide, looking terrified, shook his head. “We don’t know, Madam President. You have loosened restrictions on content—”

  “And we have retained full control of every mechanism for distributing messages like these! Why haven’t we shut them down?”

  A grim-faced woman answered. “Someone sabotaged the control software. We can’t activate any of the censor overrides. They’re letting through everything. Our software people—”

  “To hell with the software people! Shut everything down! Kill the power!”

  The woman blinked in surprise. “Oh. That’s a hardware solution. I’ll need to contact—”

  “Do it! Pull the plugs!”

  “Ye
s, Madam President!”

  “Get everything except security comm channels off-line,” Iceni directed. “Then power it back up piece by piece with reloaded software. Start it happening now! We need those media channels back so we can start sending out our own messages to calm this mess!”

  She could see the crowds reacting to the messages, see waves of growing anger and fear rippling through the masses of citizens, each wave reinforcing the others. It didn’t matter if the fears contradicted each other. It didn’t matter if the fears made sense. The citizens were moving past the point where logic, reason, common sense, and even their own safety and security had any restraining influence.

  Everywhere in the cities on this planet, crowds were on the verge of becoming mobs.

  Iceni hit another control. “Mobilize every police officer and order them to assemble at local stations. Call all government employees into their offices with orders to report immediately. Lock down all government buildings, security status one alpha. Get me someone at ground forces headquarters. Who is in charge there until we find Colonel Rogero?”

  A wide-eyed woman stared back at Iceni. “We’re . . . going to use the ground forces, Madam President?”

  Everyone raised in the Syndicate knew what that meant. Compliance measures using live ammunition and killing as many citizens as necessary to make the survivors submit to authority. If word started going around that Iceni was planning such an action, every crowd would explode into violence. “No! We need the soldiers to protect the citizens! Tell everyone that! Someone is trying to make the people riot, someone wants them to cause deaths and destruction! The soldiers will protect the people and their property! Now get me someone at ground forces headquarters!”

  Brave words. Idealistic words. But if the mobs erupted into full-scale rioting, would she be able to abide by those words? Or would she have to order the actions necessary to stop the rioting?

  Iceni paused, all of the comm links off so that for a moment no one could see her, and leaned heavily on her desk, her arms locked, head lowered, trying to find the strength inside not to give in to despair. She had to look strong, be strong, and, most important of all, be smart. Her enemies had clearly outthought her, and outthought Artur Drakon as well. A long, carefully thought-out chess game had reached a climax with both the queen and the king under threat of check.

  But the queen was still the most powerful piece on the board.

  Iceni hit another control with vicious force. “Togo! Where the hell are you?”

  No response. She tried two more circuits, including the emergency circuit, then hit another control. “Where is Mehmet Togo?” she demanded of her chief of staff.

  “I—I do not know, Madam President.” The chief of staff didn’t bother trying to hide his bewilderment since Togo always came and went purely by Iceni’s orders. No one was supposed to question or hinder Togo’s movements.

  “When was the last time he was seen?”

  The chief of staff barked an order to an underling, then waited nervously until the answer came. “His last sighting was thirteen hours ago, on a security camera.”

  “Thirteen hours. Wait. He wasn’t seen by someone? He was recorded on a security camera?”

  “Yes, Madam President.”

  Iceni ended the call, staring at the top of her desk. Togo has the equipment to blind security cameras and knows where they all are. He never lets his movement be tracked by routine security equipment. Why would he let himself be seen by one?

  The star display next to her desk, almost forgotten as she concentrated on the situation on this planet, suddenly showed a bright warning symbol near the hypernet gate as an alarm blared for her attention.

  Iceni raised her head and looked at the display.

  A lot of warships had arrived at Midway’s hypernet gate about four hours ago. A lot of large warships. Midway’s sensors were busy evaluating the new arrivals, trying to identify who they were.

  Iceni realized that she was smiling, her lips tight in a snarl of defiance, as she gazed at the display. You think this is checkmate, don’t you? she mentally asked her faceless enemies.

  You’re wrong.

  —

  “WHAT’S your assessment?” Drakon asked. The building he was in shuddered as part of it collapsed.

  “As the workers say, it’s root hog, or die.” Gaiene sounded happy, as if he were reporting good news. The origin of the phrase had long been lost in the mists of time, but everyone knew what “root hog, or die” meant. You’re on your own, to fail or succeed, and if you fail, you’re finished.

  “Colonel Gaiene is correct,” Kai said impassively. “They’re not trying to punch through at a few points to split us up, General. I’m seeing even pressure all around the portion of the outer perimeter that my troops are defending.”

  “They want to ensure our total annihilation,” Malin said, “by forcing our perimeter back upon the Syndicate forces holding their base. Right now, they are just maintaining pressure until their full force arrives and is in position. At that point, we can expect a barrage using all of their available artillery and surface-to-surface rockets, followed by all-out assault. It is already apparent that the Syndicate forces have significantly more artillery than expected.”

  “They’ve got significantly more of everything than expected,” Gaiene pointed out.

  “Recommendations?” Drakon said.

  “We can’t hold very long,” Gaiene observed nonchalantly. “Even if we ride out the bombardments and hunker down in the rubble well enough to fight off assaults, we’ll only have a couple of days at the most before we run out of energy and ammo. Getting lifted out is impossible. The only available landing areas are covered by either the base’s weapons or the enemy troops now occupying the buildings across the street. Our shuttles wouldn’t last thirty seconds against the amount of fire those Syndicate troops can bring to bear.”

  “With the Syndicate battleship here, going back to the freighters would just trade one trap for another even if we could do it,” Kai added.

  “The freighters aren’t in orbit here anymore,” Malin said. “The shuttles could only move some of our troops to another location on the surface before the rest got overrun, but as Colonel Gaiene says, the shuttles would not survive any attempt to land.”

  “On the other hand,” Gaiene said, “if we try to retreat on the surface, there’s only one way we can go, and that’s inward. We’ll run right into the defenses around that base.”

  Drakon felt himself smiling though he felt no trace of humor within. “I know what you’re driving at, Conner. We can’t hold, and we can’t retreat. That only leaves one option.”

  “Yes, General,” Gaiene agreed. “It does. We need to attack.”

  “Attack?” Kai asked. “A breakout?”

  “Hell, no,” Gaiene protested. “We’re outnumbered two to one on the outer perimeter. I always prefer the path of least resistance.”

  “Attack inward?” Malin said. “It’s true that the least reliable troops that Haris has are those holding that base against us, and we outnumber them. But they are dug in at the base, behind their fixed weapons and fortifications.”

  “We can’t abandon the outer perimeter,” Kai said as if discussing a difficult simulation whose results would have no personal impact on him. “And as soon as the forces outside the perimeter realize we are attacking inward, they will redouble their attack on us.”

  Drakon studied his display, letting options run through his mind. “If we can gain control of that base, we’ll be behind their fortifications and have access to their supplies. We’ll have protection against artillery bombardment. But there’s no way to hold the outer perimeter and attack inward with sufficient force to overwhelm the defenses of the base. Half measures will leave us using too few troops to take the base and too few troops defending the outer perimeter.”

  “Use them all,” Malin said suddenly. “Every soldier on the attack. Completely abandon the outer defenses and shove everything
at the base, all-out attack.”

  Gaiene smiled broadly. “I knew you had promise, young fella.”

  “It risks everything on one throw of the die,” Kai argued. “Can we afford to do that?”

  “Can we afford not to?” Malin asked.

  “We have to act fast,” Drakon said. “We’re taking more losses every minute, and we have no idea how much time we have left before the troops outside the perimeter launch their assault. We’ll go in simultaneously from all sides, using every surface chaff round we have to provide cover. We can’t afford to have the attack falter or hesitate, so we’ll personally have to lead it and keep everyone moving.” He moved his finger around the virtual display before his face, knowing that the motion would be seen by the others even though they were at different places around the perimeter. “I’ll lead the attack from this quarter, you from here, Conner, you from here, Bran, and you from this quarter, Hector. Have some weapons set up on the outer defensive line to fire on auto controls to make it look like the perimeter is still being defended. The moment I give the attack order, we completely abandon the outer lines. Everyone is to charge inward at the base.”

  “Win or die,” Kai remarked with resignation. “It beats hiding in a hole until they come to kill us, I suppose.”

  Malin spoke to Drakon on a private channel that neither Kai nor Gaiene could hear. “This is insane, General. I’m sure that Colonel Morgan would approve.”